A Marvel Christmas Carol
by aspiringactor
Summary: Three spirits visit one particular Avenger in this spin on the holiday classic!


_**A/N: Obviously, this is completely out of cannon. I do not own Marvel or 'A Christmas Carol' **_

_A Marvel Christmas Carol:_

Bright lights had been hung around the many rooms of the Avengers Mansion, heralding the approaching holiday. Red, green, blue and white lights lined the walls, and wrapped themselves around the grand tree that sat in the foyer of the building, already bearing a plethora of gift beneath it's emerald branches. Everybody seemed to be caught up in the Christmas spirit.

Tony Stark was making eggnog in the kitchen, with Janet Van Dyne handling the cookies and making sure he didn't 'sample' the wine. Captain America sat in the lounge with Luke Cage, enjoying '_It's a wonderful life' _as an out-of tune caroller approached Carol Danvers from behind. Most people would consider that a death wish. But not him.

"'sup Captain Sparkle-Fist?" the voice of Peter Parker, Spider-man chirped as she spun around, and gave him a hard stare. He shrunk back slightly, obviously aware that she could throw him through the wall with no effort whatsoever.

"Don't call me that," she snapped, irritated at his insistent name-calling. Day after day he pestered her with non-stop quips and stupid jokes. Eventually, they began to get on her nerves. And on more than one occasion, she considered striking him. _Sure, he's cute...scratch that, he's really cute. But downright annoying and childish. _She thought with a forced shrug.

"How 'bout Ms Power-Punch?" He offered in an annoying tone as she pushed past him. Unfortunately, he seemed unable to take a hint, and insisted on following her. "Madame Glow-Stick? Princess Sparkle-Punch? B-"

"Cut it," she snapped as she turned down the hall that lead to the monitor room. "Unless you've got something to say," she said as she stopped at the door frame, and stared him down once more.

"Hey look," Peter quipped as he pointed upwards, and bared the bottom half of his mask. "Mistletoe! You know how this is supposed to go..." he voice trailed off as he puckered his lips and leaned inwards, obviously expecting her to consummate the gesture,, which she had no intention of doing in any lifetime. He shrank back as his unending smile lessened by a small margin, before he continued. "Look, it's Christmas eve," he shrugged. "I know you've got nowhere to go and was kinda wondering..." he said as he rubbed the back of his head. "There's always room for one more at my place," he finished with a halfhearted smile.

"Pass," Carol replied as she spun around. "I've got monitor duty tonight."

"Cap says that-" Peter began to say.

"Listen," Carol snapped bitterly, "this isn't some sort of hobby for me. Criminals don't take the day off because of what tomorrow is. In fact, studies show that they're more likely to commit a crime, because all the cops are off the streets," she finished as she slumped down into the chair, and eyed the many screens in front of her.

"Oh come on-" Peter began.

"I've made up my mind," she said with a huff. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," he replied, in a somewhat defeated tone. She was then left in peace and quiet, which was comforting to her. She was able to focus her mind on singular tasks, and block out the sounds of festivities coming from outside the room. Soon, the hours began to drag by and seep away into the night. Slowly but surely, her alert mind began to slip, and her eyes began to droop.

"_Carol..."_ a voice whispered. It was so quiet, it almost sounded like the wind creaking in through the door. Which was impossible, given the fact that the building was supposed to be airtight. That precaution had been implemented after a biological attack on the Avengers, in order to avoid spreading the pathogen around to the general populace. So that only left two options. Either she was going crazy, or someone was talking to her.

"Who's there?" she barked as she spun the chair around.

"_Carol..."_ the voice repeated.

"Parker if that's you..." She growled as she began to rise out of her seat, "I swear I'll throw your head into the wall."

"_Carol..." _the voice repeated once more. As it spoke, the dust that lay in a film over the top of the computer swirled up into the air. Slowly, it began to take shape. It started with the feet, then the body, then the arms and finally the head. The head of Simon Williams. Wonder Man. Her ex-boyfriend, who had died several years ago.

"Okay if this is some sort of-" Carol began to bellow as a challenge to any unseen attackers.

"Carol," Simon's ghost said as 'he' reached out a hand, and grasped her shoulder. "It's me. It's really me, Carol." She took a step back, allowing the ghost's arm to fall to his side, and a bleak expression to from on his face.

"It can't be you," she snapped with disbelief. "You're dead."

"So was Captain America," Simon said flatly. "And Jean Grey. And The Scarlet Witch. And you. But yes, I am dead," he continued as he stepped to the side, bowing his head as he did so. "As dead as the day they buried me."

"Then how are you here?" Carol muttered.

"Sometimes the big guy upstairs lets us out," Simon shrugged. "And gives us a chance to change things for the better. If we do that, our time...upstairs will be made a lot more comfortable."

"And how are you supposed to make thing better?" Carol huffed as she circled around Simon's transparent body. "You're dead. Therefore you can't touch anything or help anybody."

"That's true," Simon replied as he shuffled his feet and tossed his head back. "That's very true, Captain Marvel. I can't touch anything or save any lives. But what I, and several others can do is make the future a little bit better for those who are still here, in the world of the living."

"How?" Carol blurted harshly.

"Tonight," Simon said as he paced the length of the room. "You will be visited by three more spirits. Past. Present. And future. The first spirit will be here very soon," Simon continued as he began to head towards the wall. "Things can change for the better, Carol. They have too," he finished before he disappeared into the wall itself. This left Carol alone, to ponder her thoughts. She wondered whether or not she had just hallucinated Simon's appearance. However, that notion was soon put to rest.

"What's happening bazooka-chest?" quipped the only person who could possibly get on her nerves more than Peter Parker.

"Deadpool," she hissed as she turned around. True enough, there stood the infamous merc with a mouth, with his swords strapped to his back and his guns to his waist. She had half a mind to arrest him on the spot, though she knew he could escape at any time.

"The one and only!" Deadpool said as he threw his arms into the air, in a joyous expression. "I'm so happy you and the girls remember me!" He said as he lunged forward, his hands reaching for her chest., to fast for her to react. "Honk!" he said as she felt her chest contract, as well as the room begin to swirl and contort. Acting fast, she pulled the mercenary off her body and tossed him away. She looked around the room, and saw that she was in an empty barracks. One that looked strangely familiar to her.

"Where the hell am I?" she snapped as she picked Deadpool up by the scruff of his neck, and braced him against the wall.

"You can't remember?" Deadpool quipped as she squeezed his neck. "It's your old army base..." he said, as his neck snapped, but she wasn't worried. She knew that he would recover from the injury, just like Wolverine would.

"My old army base," she said as she dropped the squirming murderer to the floor, allowing memories to begin to flood back, even as the door to the barracks opened. Acting on instinct, Carol rolled behind cover, in order to not be seen.

"Oh don't worry about them seeing you," Deadpool said as he righted his head. "They're memories...I think that's what I was told anyway. Damn writer can't get it strait in his head..." he continued as he got back to his feet. "Point is they can't see us. Or feel us," he continued as he approached one of the two women who had just entered the room. "Look," he said as he passed his hands through both women's breasts. Surprisingly, the women seemed to not hear or feel him, and carried on their conversation.

"So, _Major Danvers," _the brunette woman smirked as she leaned against the wall. "Any plans for your holiday leave?" she taunted as the blonde, who Carol realized was herself, only younger.

"Home for the holidays," the younger Carol replied as she began to pack away her bunk. "I'm gonna go surprise my family. I fly out in an hour," she finished with a smirk, which caused the memories to flow back into Carol's present mind.

"this..." she muttered as she backed up. "this is..."

"Seven some odd years or something ago," Deadpool said as he took a sniff of her hair. "The author wasn't very specific with me. And speaking of which, he's only paying me ten bucks an hour. And he's only got five to his name. So let's go!" he finished as he grabbed her shoulders and space began to whirl around her again. Once it stopped, she was aware of where she was. She, along with her younger self, was standing outside a door, which was opened. Inside the hall was a woman who looked similar to Carol did now, only her eyes where puffed. Carol watched her younger self pull her mother into a tight hug as whispers where into each others ears.

"This is..." Carol began as she remembered that particular day. "this is...Steve..."

"yeah," Deadpool shrugged, "too bad about your brother. Shot down over Iraq. Here," he offered, "I'll let you hit me to ease your pain if you let me squeeze your boobs again."

"I don't see how this is supposed to make things better," Carol snapped, trying to hide her emotions. "Simon said-"

"Yeah yeah yeah," Deadpool muttered in a flippant tone. "Not yet. But hang on," he continued as he snapped his fingers, and everything disappeared, only to be replaced by a empty street. Only this time, she was alone. Deadpool was nowhere to be seen.

"Wilson?" she called out into the night. "Deadpool? Where the hell did you-?"

"He's gone," a new voice said, as the body it belonged to hobbled into view. "Something about a three-way between Rogue, Jean Grey and Psylocke in another dimension. But don't worry," the man, who appeared to be in his mid-eighties said with a warm smile across his face. "No exotic lady such as yourself will be left alone on this cold night."

"And who are you?" Carol asked blatantly.

"Irving Forbush," the man, smiled, shaking his whisker-like moustache as he spoke. "Now," he continued as he slipped his arm around Carol's hooking her at the elbow. Unlike with Deadpool, this man's actions did not seem perverted, instead they where sweet and traditional. "Let's walk," he said, as the two of them began down the street. "No, we're not in another memory, Miss Danvers," Irving smiled as they turned down a street.

"Then where are we?" she asked in a conversational tone.

"The present," Irving offered with a shrug. "I want to show you something," he said as Carol saw a light twinkling in the distance. The light began to grow larger, as the two of them headed for it. It soon turned into a house, which appeared to be in diss-repair. The shingles where falling off of the roof, and several prongs on the outside railing where missing. Overall, it looked very repulsive.

"Who lives in this dump?" Carol blurted as they crossed the property line, and climbed the stairs. She was sure to help the old man, as she wasn't sure his balance was that good. "they need to call a carpenter, and fast," she muttered as Irving turned the door handle, and opened the door. A warm light escaped into the night as the two of them entered the beaten down house. Almost immediately, she heard voices coming from the kitchen.

"Aunt May," a male voice, which sounded very familiar, said as dishes clattered together. I can get that," the man finished, as Carol placed his voice to a face.

"Is that-?" she asked Irving, who nodded.

"Peter Parker," the elderly man smiled as the two of them entered the kitchen. Again, as before, Carol and Irving where not seen by the two people inside. One of them being Peter Parker, dressed in worn-out jeans and an ugly Christmas sweater. And the other being a frail old woman, who was struggling to lift a pot of beans from the stove to the table. Carol assumed this woman was his 'Aunt May' who he had mentioned to her and the other Avengers on occasion. Oddly, Carol had always pictured the woman to be less frail, and show more strength and mobility.

"I am quite capable of carrying a dish," May scolded warmly. "I'm not that helpless yet, Peter Parker!" she finished as he legs began to buckle. She would have crashed, if not for Peter's swift arms, which grabbed her shoulders firmly and held her steady. "I'm alright," she sighed, devoid of the strength her words had carried before.

"Aunt May," Peter said in a tone that carried a surprising amount of gravity. "Are you _sure_?" he continued as he helped her to a seat, and relieving her of the dish she carried in her hands.

"Yes Peter," May said, as she wiped a tear from her eye. "I...I'm fine. Just a little dizzy, that's all," she concluded with a weak smile, which was not exchanged by her nephew. That surprised Carol. She had always thought that Peter was incapable of not smiling, but here he was, with a pained expression on his face. Clearly something was going on unsaid between them.

"He's not smiling-" Carol muttered under her breath. "he always-"

"He doesn't have much to smile about," Irving said in a grave tone of voice, as he turned to face Carol. She was about to ask what the man meant, only to be silenced by May Parker's voice.

"Is that lovely woman you spoke about coming?" May asked as she placed a hand on her nephew's shoulder. "Is she coming for dinner tomorrow, Peter?"

"No," Peter replied in a defeated tone. "No she um...has to work tomorrow Aunt May. She can't come," he finished as he patted the woman's hand gently. She watched Peter force his lips into a smile, as he tried to comfort the woman before him. "You just sit here," Peter said, "I'll finish with supper."

"What's-" Carol began.

"Cancer," Irving cut in gravely. "Stage two liver cancer. That's why this house is 'a dump' as you called it," Irving nodded as he pointed towards Peter. "he's been doing his absolute best with the upkeep, but he's only got so much time between his job, the Avengers and his family. And the bills don't help either."

"The bills?" Carol blurted. "Why doesn't Jameson-"

"Care? You've met him, right?" Irving offered with a sigh. "The best Peter got was a five-percent raise. But that's barely enough to scrape by," the old man said as his head drooped down. "If things don't change soon, he'll be dining alone next Christmas." This caused Carol's heart to drop. She always knew Peter as being ever-joyful. A clown who never shut up. To see him like this, and to imagine the pain he was about to go through was unbearable.

"Irving..." Carol stammered. "There's got to be something I can do..." she said, realizing to late that she was again alone, surrounded by darkness. Darkness which was all-consuming and terrifying. Darkness which was, ultimately replaced by a misty, greyish world. She was standing in a cemetery. Graves surrounded her on all sides, but her eyes quickly fell on only a single stone. It was the only one which had a visitor. Though she could not see the visitor's face, she knew who he was, and who he was visiting. A tear streamed down her face as Peter Parker knelt down on one knee, crying. She blinked as the wind picked up, carrying a newspaper into her face. She pulled it away, and read the headline.

'STARK TOWER DESTROYED. THE LAST OF THE AVENGERS KILLED BY VENOM'

"No..." Carol muttered as she fell to her knees. "No...someone would have stopped him. Spider-man would have-?"

"Spider-man?" a cold voice sneered, causing Carol to look up, only to see no one. Even Peter was gone. "Spider-man doesn't exist anymore," the voice sneered wickedly, as Carol got to her feet and prepared to fight the spirit off.

"There's still one Avenger here," she challenged as she balled her hands into fists. "why don't you come out and fight!" she bellowed.

"Why don't you!" the voice said from behind her, revealing itself to be that of Venom, only slightly more familiar than she remembered. It almost sounded like Peter's voice coming from the monster. And to her horror, she was right.

"Long time no see..." Peter/Venom growled menacingly as he approached, leering over her body.

"I...I...I..." Carol stammered, "how could you do this, Peter? How could you kill us?"

"Why?!" Peter/Venom roared into the air. "Because I can!" he shouted as he drove his fist into her stomach, sending her flying into a row of headstones. "With great power," he bellowed as he formed his hand into an axe, "comes great responsibility. And with that!" he growled as he raised his weapon into the air, "comes great _PAIN!"_ She braced herself for the blow by closing her eyes, which never came.

Slowly but surely, she opened them again as something tapped her shoulder. She turned her head to see Tony Stark prodding her with a food tray.

"Hungry?" the armoured Avenger asked. "You look like you dozed off there Carol," he continued with a shrug. "Want me to ask someone to take over for you?"

"I um..." Carol stuttered as she got out of her seat. "Yeah if you don't mind. I've um...got somewhere to be right now," she said before heading down the hall. She passed by several fellow Avengers on her way to the landing pad. From there, she took off into the skies, and headed towards a destination that somehow formed in her mind. She didn't know why, but she knew it was the right place, even as she landed in the backyard gently. Cautiously, she made her way around, onto the worn-down steps before knocking on the frail door lightly. Seconds later, it was opened, and all Carol could say was:

"Is there room for one more?"

_**A/N: Who amongst you knows who 'Irving Forbush' is an assumed name for? **_

_**Merry Christmas & a Happy New Year! **_


End file.
